Who Cooks for You?

 I heard that sound again a few nights ago -- the same shriek that caused one of the most frightening nights of my life some 30+ years ago.  

 

I was home alone that night, when we lived near Paris Mountain State Park in Greenville.  Mike had to return to night shift at his job for the first night in several months, so I was a little nervous to begin with.  Around midnight I was jerked from a fitful sleep by the loud bloodcurdling shriek of what seemed to be a woman’s scream right outside the bedroom window.  A few minutes later the terrible sound was repeated further back in the yard.  That’s all I heard, but it was enough to ruin my night.  I should have called someone, but shook in bed, too frightened to move, much less go investigate.  I didn’t even doze until close to dawn.

 

The next morning my neighbor called and casually asked, “Did you hear the owl?”  Little did she know.

 

That sound came from a barred owl.  Their scream is uncommon, but anyone who hears it will never, ever forget it. I can vouch for that.  

 

Most of the time, barred owls make a more mild hoot that has been described as “Who cooks for you?  Who cooks for you-all?”  Members of a pair will call back and forth to each other in the woods for long periods of time.   Because of those calls they are also known as “hoot owls” - the name people are most familiar with.  They are one of our most common owl species. 

 

Barred owls are fairly large - about 20 inches tall.  They have rounded heads and are colored a mottled brown, grey, and white. They are found all over the eastern U.S. in woods and swamps.  They don’t migrate, and are heard at night year-round.

 

Barred owls hunt for small animals most of the night, and occasionally in the daytime as well.  But much of the time during daylight hours they flit silently through deep forests, or get a little shut-eye on high tree limbs.  They are much more often identified by their nighttime sounds. And they occasionally make that shriek that has been known to sound like a real person.  

 

So when I heard that late-night scream not long ago, this time outside our bedroom window here in Anderson, I automatically reacted to the sound.  However, it wasn’t quite as loud as that other time, and was followed immediately with the “Who cooks for you?” call--so I knew that a nearby barred owl was making himself known.  I enjoyed listening to the sounds.  Then I rolled over and slept soundly, all night long.  

Ducks Going to Roost

Awhile back, I mentioned to Mike that a blue-morph snow goose had been seen out in the fields and ponds around Townville.  He asked if I wanted to go try to see it.  Silly question.  Of course I wanted to.  We left immediately because the sky still seemed fairly light, but it’s a good twenty-minute drive from where we live, and as we got out there we could tell that it was really too late to identify anything very well.

We could see well enough to tell that there were no geese out there except for two Canadas, which are common, and frankly not worth a trip out to view.  (Amazing how things change.  Thirty years ago seeing a Canada Goose would have been a big treat.  Not any more, now that they seem to be everywhere.)

 

But there were a lot of ducks on the pond where we were watching.  We couldn’t tell what kinds they were; we could only identify in the shadows that, yes, they were ducks.  So Mike suggested that we stay to watch them go to roost, since ducks rarely overnight at the same place where they spent the day.  Of course I again agreed.  

 

We waited about fifteen minutes, watching the darkening sky and the sixty or so ducks paddling around in the pond.  Not much was happening.  I thought that maybe this was a complete waste of time.

 

Then, all of a sudden, at some unseen signal, about thirty of them rose up at the exact same time.  They didn’t just leave the pond, but flew in a large circle toward the west.  Then they circled around, made a large loop, and flew together as one toward the east.  Mike said they were flying in a circle in order to gain altitude before heading to their destination: probably a roost in a nearby swamp.  

 

About five minutes later, another smaller group rose up and flew in the opposite direction, again circling the pond before leaving.  Then the final set flew, in a circle and toward the east, like the first group.  The sight of all those ducks flying in a spiral as one moving mass was beautiful against the last fading rays of light before complete nightfall.  

 

Who knows what is the trigger that makes a flock rise up and fly away to roost?  Mike suggested that maybe an alpha male makes a sound; however, we don't know for sure what it might be.  All we really know is that seeing all those ducks flying in unison toward their roosting spot was a beautiful example of the design in nature that we really don’t understand.  

Lady With The Lipstick

Everybody notices male cardinals.  It’s true that their scarlet-red color is beautiful, especially against a cloudy and somewhat dreary winter sky.  Images of them grace kitchen towels, sheets, and other linens.  They’re seen on coffee mugs and refrigerator magnets.  Males are bright and brilliant and distinctive.

However, though the female cardinal may not be as prominent, she has her own significant beauty.  She reminds me of a gracious lady who might not be out front being flashy or using up the fashion oxygen, but who remains a little more in the background.  And after awhile, people begin to notice her.  Then they look at that gracious lady and think “Wow, she is lovelier than I realized.”

 

The female cardinal is that lovely lady.  Most of her feathers are shades of honey tan.  But she’s sophisticated  and she is accessorized.  Her wings and tail complement the honey color with a shade of warm red, not as bright as the male’s, but still a nice garnet color.  She has just enough of that same red in her crest that she looks like she’s sporting a jaunty hat - obviously one with a feather in it.  And unlike many birds, she doesn’t change into duller hues for the winter, but keeps her attractive warm colors year round.  

 

The outstanding feature of the female cardinal is, in my opinion, not her coloration or her feather accessories.  It’s her short, thick beak, which is unusually colored for a bird.  Most birds’ beaks are grey, tan, or black; however, this lady’s is a beautiful shade of cherry-orange that complements the red in her wings and tail perfectly.  She looks like she’s gotten into a tube of that old Tangee lipstick that old-timers will remember.  That is how she gets her moniker “Lady with the Lipstick.” And since she lives in our area, can’t you just hear her Southern mama saying "Shugah, wouldn't you feel bettah with a little lipstick on?"

 

Now the male cardinal has a reddish beak also.  But since he is the same brilliant shade all over, his beak doesn’t stand out like the female’s does.  Hers is the crowning touch on her fashionable suit of feathered finery.  

 

This couple steps out together and is seen as a pair year-round.  They’re more noticeable in the winter because so many other birds have migrated away, and because with the leaves gone from the trees they provide a sharp contrast to the dull branches and ground.  And they are especially stunning when seen against the rare snowfalls that we get here in South Carolina.

 

So, as you get dressed up for holiday parties and events, remember that you have an elegant counterpart in the bird world around us.  I present to you Mr. Cardinal, and his Lady with the Lipstick!

 

 

Trail Mix and Bird Feed

You would think I would learn my lesson. 

I know from years of feeding birds that most of the species I desire in our yard come best when offered plain black oil sunflower seed.  But no, I can’t be satisfied, and have to get fancy and try new things.  This time it almost cost me a husband.

 

Mike likes to snack on trail mix when he is working at our farm.  The stuff I buy for him is a big purple bag full of peanuts, shelled sunflower seeds, and chocolate pieces.  Recently I noticed another variety in a darker-colored bag - various nuts, peanuts, and dried cranberries.  I thought that this mixture might attract some different birds if mixed 50-50 with their black oil seed.  So I bought both kinds - Mike’s and the birds’.  I put Mike’s bag (which was the color that he was accustomed to) on the garage table, and reminded him to take it to the farm.  I then created my ill-conceived mixture for the birds, and put it in its darker-colored bag high on the garage shelf.  

 

Now, black oil seeds for birds are less refined than sunflower seeds processed for human consumption.  The birds’ version has unsalted shells, and often contains various forms of sticks, stones, and other bits of this and that, which never get sorted out.  The birds don’t care - they just throw the refuse to the ground with their beaks as they look for the good stuff. So the contents of the bird bag mixture were a little rough.

 

Well, I did not take into account Mike’s height, and the fact that he might more easily see the birds’ bag up high, and overlook his on the garage table.

 

You have now deduced what happened.  

 

Mike came home that night.  My sister was visiting and we were chatting after supper.  And then Mike, who did not know about my little project, announced: “By the way, what was that you sent with me?  It was terrible!! I felt like I was eating sticks. Do not EVER buy that trail mix again!”  In horror I realized what had happened.  There wasn’t much I could do but admit that yes, he really was eating sticks, as well as other stuff not meant for him or any other humans.  And then we all had a good laugh.  At least my sister and I did.

 

The final piece to this sad saga is that the birds didn’t even like the fancy new mixture.  I finally dumped it out in the yard.  Maybe some creature will come along who likes creativity in his food, but I’m not even hopeful about that.

 

The birds are back to eating the plain seed that they like best.  I think Mike has forgiven me.  I just hope he doesn’t start to chirp. 

 

 

Northern Harrier vs. Progress

 Female Northern Harrier, 1/2021

I first saw a northern harrier several years ago in the large triangular field bounded by Whitehall Road and Highways 24 and 187 in west Anderson.  It’s an uncommon hawk for South Carolina, present only in the winter, but often visible if an observer goes looking for one in the open fields of our area.  The harrier’s defining field marks are its white rump (easily visible when it is flying) and its way of holding its wings at an angle when it flies.  Its body is slender.  It often sails with the wind currents, and also sometimes hovers over prey.

 

The harrier is large--about the size of a red-tailed hawk, which is a much more common hawk around here.  Also for comparison, the tail of a red-tailed hawk looks like a rusty fan, but the harrier’s tail is long and narrow. The female harrier is dark brown, and the male is pearl gray.

 

That bleak winter day, I pulled off to the side of the road and watched that sleek lovely bird for fifteen minutes or so, enjoying the beauty of seeing it sail back and forth on the wind currents above the waving grasses, as it looked for small mammals or any prey that pleased its fancy for supper. I’ve kept that memory ever since.

 

Then, within months, “progress” took over.  The field was bulldozed and leveled.  A shopping center was built.  A grocery store, a restaurant, several smaller offices, and a sea of asphalt replaced the waving grasses.  

 

I missed the beauty of the field, and seeing sights like that beautiful harrier - but did get used to the homelike atmosphere of the grocery. It was smaller and more intimate than the other groceries in the area. The deli workers always knew exactly how I wanted my order sliced. One of the checkout ladies would ask how my school year was going, and I would ask her about her children. The store was a welcoming and friendly oasis on a busy road.  Maybe this change wasn’t all bad.

 

And then--another form of “progress” occurred.  The grocery chain announced their business model: to close that lower-volume store (and others like it), so they could build new ones in different areas that might produce greater profit.  Since the grocery was the anchor in the center, the domino effect caused many of the other businesses to shut their doors as well.  

 

And now the grocery store is boarded up and quiet, and has been for a long time. Other smaller businesses come and go in the center, but some storefronts stand continuously empty. 

 

I don't know much about business models. I just know that a nice neighborhood grocery has been closed for several years now, and a large and beautiful field has been covered with a mostly unused parking lot.  And I also know that northern harriers don't search for their supper over asphalt and empty buildings.